


Try anything once.

by Corina (CorinaLannister)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Childhood Memories, Flashbacks, Male Sansa Stark, Rule 63, Sansa Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25489444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorinaLannister/pseuds/Corina
Summary: Sansa Stark as a male based in Game of Thrones season 1 episode one.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: Rule 63 Exchange 2020





	Try anything once.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [facethestrange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/facethestrange/gifts).



Today was an important day for the Stark family. They were going to welcome King Robert and his contingent to Winterfell. If the King was personally visiting this either meant that grave news was about to come or that something advantageous was about to happen. This was an occasion which was marked by a great feast which was being prepared and everything had to be set up just so. There was far more activity than usual within the castle walls. The hustle and bustle made the castle feel alive. However, the imminent arrival of the most important person in Westeros had put everyone on edge including Sansa. He was young but could sense a change in the emotions of those around him. Something big was about to happen but what he was unaware. The atmosphere had somehow gotten darker and people were prone to anger quicker. Just this morning he had heard Septa Mordane say ‘by the seven gods’ under her breath when she was exiting the rooms meant to house the King and Queen. 

Lord Eddard Stark had insisted that all children were to be bathed and groomed properly. For Sansa that was a relief, having a bath was a luxury. Even his Sister Arya had the habit of not being very ladylike and sparring with them, she got just as filthy. She even played around instead of trying please her Septa. Sansa thought that Arya could outshoot anyone of them using the bow himself included. He wondered if Arya wished she had been born a male? He certainly did not wish to be born a female. 

Soon banners were seen in the distance signalling that the whole of the Stark family were to line up. The servants were stood in a crowd behind where the family were supposed to line up. Sansa was ready and waiting by his Father first and was dressed in his doublet which had a small direwolf stitched onto the inside. Granted, any Septa would be horrified at the result, it would be hard for anyone to recognise what it was. He would never admit that he had tried his hand at sewing though as that was a task for ladies. 

By the time, the other members of the Stark family arrived the King’s men were riding into the courtyard. The procession went on for longer than Sansa expected. With it came a cacophony of different sounds and smells. There was a lot of interest in the carriages and the carts of food they had bought with them. He was however interested in the knights in their armour. They looked majestic. Seeing them riding in on their horses reaffirmed to him that is what he wanted to do. He wanted to be a knight. He wanted more than anything to travel to King’s Landing with them. To live the life of luxury. He wanted his life to have a purpose and that purpose would be to protect the weak and help the vulnerable. 

When the trail of horses and carriages ended and the display was over King Robert himself was coming towards him. Sansa did not think much of him, he didn’t look like he would do well in battle. He had just greeted Lord Stark and Robb. Now it was his turn. He stood up straighter and squared his shoulders. Making a good impression on him could be vital.

“Who might you be?” 

“Sansa, my King.” 

“Sansa Stark. You look like you could be a great warrior one day. You’ve got strong arms. One day you we may need you to fight by our side with your Brothers,” the King spoke at him, squeezing one of his arms. The moment was over quickly and he had already moved on to the other Stark siblings. Sansa looked down at his arm and remembered about the direwolf he had stitched into his doublet. The King would surely not appreciate that. He would need to get rid of it lest he be found out. Soon he found himself reminiscing about how that came to be there. 

He had been listening to Arya taking about her lessons with Septa Mordane. Arya had always complained about the embroidery and needlework lessons. Saying it was too difficult or too boring and sometimes resulted in pain if done incorrectly. It had intrigued Sansa to no end. How could needlework be difficult and how could it result in pain? He could understand how archery and sword work could be painful and difficult but not embroidery. This played on his mind until one day he had snuck away from his archery training to observe what happened under Septa Mordane’s watch. 

“Arya, must you stab with that needle. Be gentle.”

“Stabbing it makes it better.”

“Do you need me to tell your Father about this?”

“No, Septa Mordane.” 

“Now, just be gentle and take your time.”

Sansa had been hidden from view. He had observed Arya and Septa Mordane trying to help her. He thought he knew now what to do, he would prove that it was easy. He had snuck into the room long after the lesson had ended and had found a few scraps of material. Even found the needle Arya had thrown across the room. Sansa had practised with this material and found that being gentle yielded far better results than stabbing did. That night Sansa found out that his Sister was right, it was painfully dull as well as painful, but he was proud of the result. A depiction of a direwolf which he had put onto the inside of his clothing. It would remind him of a time when he had doubted his Sister. That would not happen again. He would also never attempt to sew again. He was not very good at it. There was no way he would remove his attempt at needlework. 

Hearing his name being called bought him back into the present. Most people seemed to have already headed inside for the feast. Only Lord Eddard remained. 

“Sansa, are you quite alright my child?”

“Yes, Father…I was just thinking.”

“What were you thinking about?” he spoke whilst laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“Why can’t Arya do the things we do? Why do you let Arya shoot arrows and behave in an unladylike manner?” this was a question Sansa had wanted to ask. 

“Winter is coming and you all best be ready for it.”


End file.
